


Dear Diary

by GMRivers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, But the Hallows aren't much good, Canon Compliant, Diary/Journal, F/M, Famous Harry, Gen, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, Harry deals with the war, Harry is grumpy, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Master of Death Harry Potter, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Harry Potter, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pureblood Culture, Pureblood Politics, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, The wizarding world is a mess, and a godson, and politics, at least at first, it backfires, mostly - Freeform, of sorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-04-28 10:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GMRivers/pseuds/GMRivers
Summary: After the war, Hermione decides Harry needs help getting over everything. No muggle psychologist would ever be able to handle him, so she decides he should write in a diary. Not that Harry agrees with her plan. Even so, Hermione can be very convincing when she wants to be, as all those who ever stood in her way know. (Deals with a slightly darker take on the war)





	1. June 4th 1998

**Author's Note:**

> This story will be made up entirely of diary entries, however, they will get longer once we get more into the story, as Harry will slowly get used to the idea of writing in a diary. For the time being, they'll be fairly short. 
> 
> The battle of Hogwarts took place May 2nd 1998  
> Up until here, everything is cannon.

June 4th 1998  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
I can't believe I just wrote that. This is stupid. This whole writing about it will make you feel better thing is stupid. Sadly, Hermione is quite determined that this is the way to go after a traumatic event, seeing as I refused to talk about my feelings with a psychologist. Though it would have had been a heavily edited version of my feelings, what with magic and the _statute of secrecy._ I wonder why wizards have no psychologists. The closest thing they have are mind healers, but they take care of things like occlumency accidents, not feelings. Hermione is glaring at me. I think she can tell I'm not really writing about the war, like she said I should, even though she is on the other side of the room. I wonder if she feels guilty for not looking for her parents yet. She said she'd probably go sometime next week, but I'm pretty sure she's stalling. I swear she has some kind of ability that lets her know when Ron and I do something wrong, I can literally feel her glare burning holes into my head. Apparently I wasn't subtle enough with my glances towards her. She has now left the room after stating that I'd better write something other than complaints about her. Also, that she'll know if I don't. I believe her.  
  
Well then, I guess I just have to get it over with.  
  
The war is over. That's good, I guess, but being there… I have never seen anything like it. I suppose it doesn't seem real. Not to me, at least. Probably not to those who were actually in the battle. It's not heroic, or noble. I don't see anything noble in teenagers having to fight for a war that started years before their time. There's nothing pretty about it. Not while children lay unmoving on the ground while the people of Britain hid behind their doors. The same people that now want to present us with an award as they read about their noble hero in the Daily Prophet.  
  
War is ugly. People die. A lot of people. Others are left behind to live on for those who couldn't. Like me, I suppose. I miss them all. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Dumbledore, Snape, even Dobby, the list goes on and on. I guess my saving people thing didn't really work as it should have had.  
  
Hermione would have slapped me a bit for making that comment. I wonder what Ron would have done. I haven't really seen Ron lately, he's been really quiet. The whole house is quiet. I hate it. Sirius would have hated it too, if he was alive. Most of the Weasleys are staying here, though Bill is elsewhere with Fleur. Fleur is pregnant, though. That's the one good thing that's come of this. They gave the news a few days ago. Kind of surreal, really, to have that kind of joy in between all the memorials and funerals.  
  
The last few weeks as a whole have been surreal. It feels weird, knowing he's gone for good. Not that there aren't any death eaters left. Last night makes three attempts to kill me in the last two weeks. Not that they succeeded, obviously. It's only been a month though. I can't wait to put all this behind me. If I ever can.  
  
Well, I guess that's it. Hopefully I won't be coerced into writing in here again today.


	2. June 16th 1998

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn't want to write in a diary, but Hermione can be very convincing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This story will be made up entirely of diary entries, however, they will get longer once we get more into the story, as Harry will slowly get used to the idea of writing in a diary. For the time being, they’ll be fairly short.

June 16th 1998

Dear Diary,

I can't believe I'm actually doing this. Again. To tell the truth, I don't see how this is supposed to help. Hermione came by yesterday. Again. I don’t know how she knew, but she could tell I hadn’t written a single word since her last visit. She actually hit me over the head with this diary for being, and I quote, “ _A stubborn, self-sacrificing arse_ .” I honestly don't see what _self-sacrificing_ has to do with me refusing to write in a bloody _diary_ . Though I didn't actually tell her that. Not only would she have had my hide, but I didn't have the heart to argue with her. She looked bad. We all do, it was a war, but she looked worse than usual. It's been one week since she first tried fixing her parents’ memories. There hasn't been any progress. One of my best friends has shut herself in the next room, going crazy with guilt, and I can do nothing to help. She hasn’t come out since yesterday evening and I can do _nothing_ . Not that Ron can. Neither of us can blame him though. The Weasleys are all suffering through Fred's death. Ron hasn’t been eating properly, not unless Hermione coaxes him. Charlie’s smile is just a bit _too_ wide, I think he’s planning on going back to his dragons soon. Bill seems fine, most of the time, until someone does something that reminds him of his brother and he squeezes Fleur’s hand just tightly enough to hide his shaky fingers. Percy has nightmares, he looks more exhausted every day. Ginny spends most of her time on a broom, flying as fast as she can for hours each day. I join her, sometimes. George, he doesn't even- not that any of us expected any different. I think he’s planning on closing the shop permanently. I hope he doesn’t. Maybe he should write a diary. I wonder if he’d take this one.

Wait, no. Now that I think about it, I don’t think Ginny would be thrilled to have her brothers write in diaries all the time.

Anyway, Andy came by earlier today. That's actually why I'm currently writing, I needed to vent my thoughts a little... to just- _think._ She brought Teddy. I think she's hoping that I'll take him, if only for a little while. With Tonks dead… Well, she's having a hard time. I feel guilty for leaving Teddy with her. I know I'm not ready to take care of him, not yet at least, I can barely take care of myself right now, but she deserves time to grieve too. I just- I need a little more time, that's all. Just a few days until I can get my head straight again. Then I'll offer to take Teddy, at least for a few days. He really seems to like me, for some reason. Or at least as much as a baby can like anyone. I have never really interacted with babies, so I don't exactly have any experience as a frame of reference. One thing about Teddy, he's as lively as his mother. I don’t think the little bundle could go more than ten minutes without breaking into peals of gurgling laughter about something. Anything. It’s ridiculous. I just wish Tonks and Remus were here to see it.

I wish the war had never happened.

Well, Hermione was wrong. Writing in this thing didn't help a bit.

 


	3. June 29th 1998

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short entry on Harry's Diary.

June 29th 1998 

  
Dear Diary, 

 

Hermione is getting better. At least she has enough energy to glare at me for not writing. It’s a vast improvement from the days she spent shutting us all out, but my shoulder will not thank her for it. I am sure to develop a diary-shaped bruise. Not that she feels sorry about it. Anyway, she promised to stop hitting me with it if I wrote for a little while. This counts, right? I think the only reason she’s not currently hovering nearby is that she finally got some results. Her parents are starting to remember. Nothing big, just a few odd things here and there. She visited with a fake name this morning, under the guise of a concerned neighbor making sure they were settling it alright. And so, Mr. and Mrs. Granger had tea with Ms. Anna Jackson. More importantly, they made Hermione’s tea exactly as she likes it, but Anna Jackson never told them how she drank her tea.

 

I hope things keep getting better. I don’t think Hermione could take it to have her hopes dashed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's very short, but I'll upload again later today. Big thank you to all of you who take the time to leave kudos and comments!


	4. August 20th 1998

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds the world to be in dire need of repair.

August 20th 1998

 

Dear Diary, 

Hermione plans to go back to Hogwarts once september comes. She says it’s important to finish our education. I’m not sure I agree. After everything that’s happened, I thought I would have jumped at the chance to experience Hogwarts as it was supposed to be. No Voldemort, no death tournaments, no professors out to kill me. I was wrong. I can’t seem to find a purpose to it. What does it matter if mars is closer to earth on such and such days if the part of the planet where we actually live is currently full of destruction? Who cares about shady readings of tea leaves when the present is so messed up? How can knowing about one hundred and six different instances of conflicts between goblins and wizards help me to get over the fact that I _killed someone_? I learned a lot in my time at Hogwarts, but there’s nothing more for me to learn there. Astronomy, History of Magic, Divination, they are all useless when faced with a society on the brink of collapse.

The wizengamot is in tatters, many seats were left empty or in the hands of much too young heirs. The wizarding world is nowhere near ready to go on as if nothing has happened. There are laws to be passed, positions to be filled. Wounds to be healed.

As heir to the Potter and Black family lines there is a lot of work waiting for me. But even outside the world of politics, there are things I need to do. Not as the boy-who-lived, but as a person. I need time to grieve for the world I thought I had, even if most of it has been broken for a while.

The war may be over but there’s still a lot that needs to be done. The people of magical britain are still scared. The streets are empty once the sun goes down, windows closed, doors locked. Auror patrols can be seen often enough, but with the losses they suffered during the war, they are spread too thin. Burglaries are common place amidst the less affluent streets. Knockturn Alley is a hub of criminal activity, full of disgruntled werewolves, vampires, and junior death eaters than never really got to dive deeper into the cause. I expected more, I guess. I thought places like Knockturn would fade into memory once the war was over. I was sure that the prejudice would fade too. How naive I was. The war wasn’t the problem, it was a symptom, I see that now. The real problem is the people. They are unwilling to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm still alive. Sorry for the wait. I should be uploading more often now.


	5. September 3rd 1998

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets drunk and has an identity crisis.

September 3rd 1998

 

Dear Diary,

 

Hermione’s been gone for two days and I’m already a wreck. I guess the wizarding world never expected their saviour to be writing a bloody diary while he drowns himself in Ogden’s finest. They never expected _me._ Now there’s an idea. Me, not being the boy-who-lived. Wouldn’t that be a good one. Not that it’s ever going to happen, since according to 99% of the population that’s all I am. Who cares about little Harry Potter? He defeated You-Know-Who, he should be protecting _us._

Who am I? That's all I can think of right now. I'm supposed to be writing about others. Loved ones. Lost ones to be precise. It would seem I can't. The battle, the damned massacre that ended the war, ended almost a year ago. The funerals and memorials seem to have only just stopped a few days ago. But all I can think of is _“what happens now?”._

It's a valid question for which I have no answer. I don't know who I am, or who it is that the world thinks I'm supposed to be. I'd like to say that I have at least a vague idea, even if only half-right, as a way to answer the question of my identity. But how to distinguish between what is true and what is only the representation of my subconscious wishes? I think that the one thing I've never been able to ever do honestly is describing myself. I don't know why it happens, but every time I try, I doubt. I doubt the truthfulness of my thoughts and ideas. I ask myself whether it truly is who I am or if it's simply who I believe I'm supposed to be, the judgement of others reflected within my thoughts, or even the product of the fickleness of my mind, who I want to be, what I don't want to be, the person I don't feel worthy enough to be, that which I fear I am, or that which I fear I'll never be.

Even my name has been taken from me. I feel doubt whenever I have to write it. Should I write the name my parents gave me? The name that carries such weight? Should I use my middle name, with all of the expectations and memories it involves? Is it fair to use a title you fear is not yours to use? Is it wrong to deny the identity that fate has seen fit to give me? I don't know how to carry the burden of a name that isn't mine, but is refusing to use it not an insult against those who gave them to me? Is that all I am? A name? A moniker? The Boy Who Lived, they called me, the Savior, the Chosen One. Am I not more than that? Am I less? Not even a year and even now there are already those who condemn me. _The next dark lord._ Some days I just don't know if I want to laugh or cry.

Who am I? I guess it’s only fitting that I find myself asking that. Am I a prophecy? Am I just the end result of my memories? Can someone without their memories still be the same person? Can you learn to love that which you forgot existed? I don’t think it’s possible, but I have to hope. Hermione has certainly lost her will to do so. Is this who we are? Broken people that can only hope because there is nothing left to do?

I can’t believe I would think this, but I would prefer it if there was an enemy to be destroyed, a horcrux to find, someone to defeat. What can I do now? I’m not a politician to fix the messed up government of our world, nor am I a healer to help fix the people that can’t find themselves to be whole. I can’t even help my friends. I’m not a hero. I’m Harry. Just Harry. A scared little boy who wants a friend. Pathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please don't hesitate to review and share your thoughts on how this story could be better.


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